THEATER REVIEW: Globe's uneven 'Rivalry' no work of art

Putting three of Renaissance-era Italy's greatest minds in the same room for a spirited debate on art and politics sounds like a great idea for a play ---- and a couple of scenes in The Old Globe's "Divine Rivalry" bear that out ---- but the colorful comedy is no masterpiece.

The play by political columnist Michael Kramer and dramaturge D.S. Moynihan has some zinging interplay between ruthless 16th-century political strategist Niccolo Machiavelli and rival Florentine artists Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo Buonarroti, and there are wonderful nuggets of historical insight sprinkled throughout the story. But the two-hour play has too much exposition (any script that needs a historical film prologue and a post-show epilogue may be biting off more than it can chew), three characters are begging for more development, and director Michael Wilson's production is whimsical but tonally uneven.

Kramer spent two years researching the surprising but true story behind "Divine Rivalry." In 1504, at the urging of his ambitious young chancellor Machiavelli, Florentine statesman Piero Soderini commissioned Leonardo, 52, and Michelangelo, 29, to paint epic Florentine battle murals in the great room of the city's government seat, the Palazzo Vecchio. The two artists were bitter foes and the murals were never completed, but "Divine Rivalry" imagines the fireworks that might have erupted between the two as they worked side by side (and even suggests an act of sabotage).

The play's best and most thoroughly developed character is Machiavelli, played with canny, motor-mouthed zest by Sean Lyons. Machiavelli could (and should) have a play all to himself. Instead, the calculating author of "The Prince" is reduced to hatching schemes, lurking in shadows and orchestrating not only an artistic bonanza for Florence, but also a secure position for himself in the state's political future (he would fail on both counts). An interesting idea the playwrights suggest is that Machiavelli courted Leonardo da Vinci in hopes of securing the designs for the artist's inventive war machines. The script captures Machiavelli's self-absorption, dishonesty and manipulative nature, though sometimes the character is too self-aware.

Despite his underwritten character, Euan Morton steals the show as Michelangelo. Eaten up with self-loathing over his homosexuality, Morton's penitent sculptor boils with intensity and bristles defensively when compared unfavorably to Leonardo. His is the most fascinating and authentic of the four performances onstage. And again, Michelangelo could fill a play by himself.

Miles Anderson, the star of the Globe's past two Shakespeare Festivals, returns for a surprisingly comic performance as Leonardo da Vinci, the script's most problematic character. As written, he is kooky, foppish and materialistic, with none of the inspiration or passion that made him one of history's greatest artists and inventors, and under Wilson's direction, he's one-dimensional and cartoonish. Anderson gives Leonardo a casual arrogance and mad-scientist vibe that's amusing, but doesn't seem to fit his age or the period.

The only time these artist characters truly come to life onstage is when they're talking about art ---- particularly their needling criticisms and grudging compliments of each other's work. The two scenes where these exchanges occur crackle with energy and insight.